there’s a god point she said in the limbic brain
with the ability to soften perceived threatswhite lawn care vans for example
into feet tingling joy pelvis goes with thatthe bowl opening to receive
an enemy’s anything worth fighting oranyone whose story you don’t yet know

organo phosphatewhat’s your storyhow can I make a metaphor out of
BounceAll or Tide’s easieras in allwashed upgone gone gone beyondis this the bodhisattva’s vow incarnate
to return until every beingllamagoatanteaterhas crossed to the otherside
or to go down with the ship

in the fairy talethe canary dies in the minehow is that helpful

yes uttered softly
the hinge of me swings to admit youyour stomach ache becomes my stomach ache
both of us doubled over now in the steamof the saunaboth of us tastingflat sweet cleaning fluid on our tongues

it feels like there’s some vow I forgot that I took

you never see bumper stickers that readno chemsI’m too tired to fight the systemtoo fuzzy

I could be a light a beaconpublic art perhapssomething to nourishthat’s what I’m dying of
malnutritionat the center of the disease is
a broken heartthe preacher sayswhat aileth theeI can’t remember
back that farturn of the centurywitch burningsbirth of the cosmos

all the unclaimed grief of humanitypiles up in the atmosphere and eats away at the ozone
global warming is a disease of the fourth charka

none of us were supposed to do it alonelean into theunknown on the otherside of the
thresholdlet yourself fall through
one moment isn’t enough to carry a lifebut one moment lived into light can transform can stave off
thatshut downstop trying no I want you to trypallor
and the ash will become stars or glutathionewhich cellularly is the same thing

I’m tired of trying to be clearperhaps I should surrender to this fuzziness instead

to heal the worldyou must feel the worldthen heal the world with the power of shaddai

this is itthere’s no life worth waiting for
when I look back on this song in my journalit will be just a moment no less no more
even the most broken life can berestored to its moments

on yom kippur I prayed with the othersand felt our prayers as birdsthis was not an original thought
but the sanctuary filled with pigeons and ravensand sparrows flapping at the beams all the same
I was sitting in the balcony hauntedby the terrible rustlingmeanwhile everything
grew softif I were a house of light
all who came near me would be bathed by my warmthI’d like thatthe beams of this sanctuary are not inherently holy
the beams are made holy by the hope sent their way

Sweigh Emily Spilkin, MFA is a poet, healer, and guide. Sweigh lives in a sleepy corner of Boulder, CO where she wanders through the foothills, teaches poetry, practices chi kung energy healing, and on a good day, writes. Sweigh loves and is terrified of the Mystery. Over the last three years, a journey with chronic illness has taught her lessons she never wanted to learn, and she is grateful. Sweigh received her MFA in poetry from Naropa University in 2000.

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